The nuance is undeniable. Preferred to any false addiction - the voice of the soul.

You are the seed and the fertile soil, breathing life into all before you.

Choice is the sacred measure. Illuminate, and the path will be illuminated. It was never darkened, but by your powerful desire to stretch beyond what you already knew.

I used to feel a deep, unspeakable shame that laid like a poison beneath the garden soil.

“It is not likely that any complete life has ever been lived which was not a failure in the secret judgment of the person who lived it.” - Mark Twain

Those days, I thought he knew me well. What is more true is that he knew the insidious distortions of our precious divinity attempting to translate its glory through the interface of an electric, lubricated flesh.

If I had stopped there, he would have been right.

Regardless of circumstance or earnest hard work, I stumbled through weeds and forest to find my way through a pain so thick it was hard to look them in the eyes.

Bad dream awoke while I was noticing the way the light touches down on the earth in the morning. Things had changed dramatically, mostly in a gradual way, over time, as if to say I had learned something, or at least chosen better for myself.

One could frame such experience is initiation. I’d seen others talk about it - the journey of a micro movement that can seem like an arduous, endless, excruciating schlep of a thousand miles.

By my most recent observations, it seems we bring it on ourselves, focused with such ambition as to try on being human.

Only on the other side - somewhere quite bright and magical - does it seem easy. How precious the journey, and the willingness to go. (Especially for those who calcify in the search of artificial stillness.)

Negotiating fiercely with the unknown, I cannot permit death to take me this way. Instead, I open the animal of doubt inside this crunchy rib cage so I can smell my own blood and feel the pulse of my heart beat that connects me to all living things.